


Haunting the Halls

by Areiton



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 05:50:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9586580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Areiton/pseuds/Areiton
Summary: If the crew of the Enterprise becomes accustomed to seeing Kirk in places he has no real reason to be, they become accustomed too, with Spock.





	

It's not so much that he doesn't trust his crew. He does--two years into their five year journey into the black, more successfully completed missions than he can count, and enough that go spectacularly wrong, ending in a wash of blood and frantic journey to sickbay, he has nothing but trust in his crew. 

And they know it, and give it right back. Trust him with their smiles and easy greetings in the halls, trusts him with their bodies when they spar and their dreams when he finds them, isolated and a little broken, trusts him with their happiness when good news comes from all the distant places they call home, trusts him with their lives when duty calls for it. 

The captain is the beating heart of a starship, and the  _ Enterprise _ crew doesn’t just serve theirs, they love him, with a devotion that is almost fanatical. 

And he gives it right back. 

So it’s not that he doesn’t trust his crew. They figured that out early. 

It’s that it’s  _ Kirk.  _

 

* * *

 

 

The first time it happens, they’re coming off a clusterfuck of an away mission on Centauri III. Kirk was restless and bruised, and nowhere near injured enough to stay in sickbay--he could hear McCoy shouting at his staff as he slipped out. 

And he finds himself at loose ends--he’s not ready for the quiet of his quarters, and he knows Spock will order him off the bridge, throw regulations laced with concern at him, all stoic stance and warm worried eyes. 

He wasn’t quite ready for that, either. 

He went to the communications lab instead. It’s quiet, now, a hum of subspace transmissions and the restless void of space pulsing softly. Two of Uhura’s people are here, monitoring the frequencies and they seem startled when Kirk appears. 

“Captain,” Ensign Rogers begins, shifting toward standing and Kirk waves her back. 

“Don’t mind me, Rogers.” 

She hesitates as Kirk wanders through the lab, plucking up discarded padds and scanning them, humming thoughtfully over decoded transmissions. He can feel them watching him, feel their nerves, and he wants to do something to set them at ease. 

He’s good at that. He’s good at being what his crew, his ship, his Federation needs. 

But right now, he’s feeling selfish, and he’s here because of what  _ he  _ needs.

It takes a while, but eventually, the communications specialist seem to understand that he’s not there to bother them or even check up on them, and they return to their work--Uhura has her staff very well trained, and he’s absurdly grateful for that as he loses himself in the bright lights of the lab and the quiet hush of space. 

Eventually, he finds a corner of the lab, tucks himself into the curve of the bulkhead and falls asleep there, listening to his crew and the hum of his ship. 

* * *

 

 

If the crew of the  _ Enterprise _ becomes accustomed to seeing Kirk in places he has no real reason to be, they become accustomed too, with Spock. 

* * *

 

 

Ensign Rogers is closing down her station, her information logged for the night. Alpha shift will be reporting in soon, and she’ll be relieved of duty and she’s still not sure she’s ready to go. 

In the corner of the room, his head tipped down to his chest, his hands resting loose on his knees, the captain is sleeping. 

He looks young and approachable, and she doesn’t want Alpha shift to see him, this defenseless. 

She doesn’t want anyone to see him like this.

The door to the lab glides open and she jerks to her feet--and freezes. 

The crew of the  _ Enterprise _ loves their captain. They trust him and more, they  _ like _ him. Kirk goes out of his way to be approachable, and remembers weeks and months and years later tiny half thought about revelation that no one expects him to be able to recall. 

But Commander Spock. 

It’s different with him. Not bad, because they like him too--once you get over the fact that he’s fucking terrifying, demanding as hell and intimidating on the best of days. 

The Commander wasn’t approachable. He was efficient and excelled at his job, and devoted to the captain--almost to a fault--but he wasn’t approachable. 

Still. If something went wrong on the  _ Enterprise, _ Spock is who you want. Kirk might be able to commiserate, and he might be brilliant and come up with a wildly inventive plan for growing new plants in the botany labs, but he’s also probably break six regulations before the conversation ended. Spock would look at a problem, come to a logical conclusion and have it approved by Starfleet before you finished explaining it. 

Ensign Rogers stares at him and the Commander glances around the room, clearly looking for something. His voice is crisp but distracted, “Excuse me, Ensign, I intended no intrusion.” 

A tiny smile turns her lips and she nods at the corner, where Kirk is hidden from view of the entrance. “There, sir.” 

Something changes, very subtly, in Spock’s expression and he nods. “Dismissed, Ensign.” 

Rogers nods, and gathers her work, moving to the door. 

She can’t see them, but as it slides open, she hears. She’s a communications specialist, and one of Uhura’s people. 

She hears very clearly. 

Spock, his voice pitched very low and impossibly soft, “Jim.” 

And the sleepy sweet response that makes her heart ache before she retreats. “Hey, Spock.” 

* * *

 

 

It becomes familiar. Normal to find the Captain in the least likely of places in the middle of the night and after away missions, after diplomats are escorted through space to some far flung world, when Kirk needs space to think and step away from the chair. 

He likes the communications lab, with the quiet hum of noise and Rogers’ quick smile before she returns to her work and ignores him completely. 

He likes the galley, where food is still prepared, because it’s nice to have something that isn’t replicated  _ all _ of the time, where he can steal an apple and tuck himself into a corner near the ovens and drifts on the scent of food and warmth that feels distinctly like home. 

He likes the hanger bay, the way it echoes and clangs, the wide open spaces and the way he can crawl into one of the shuttlecraft and everything falls away, even the hum of the ship is muted here, and he can breath. 

He likes the ships laundry with the bright scent of cleaner and he likes the Jefferies tubes, especially late at night, when they’re empty and quiet. 

He is found in tucked away corners and brightly lit labs, a thousand places where he has no place and yet his crew bends around him, gives him the quiet and space he craves, while he watches them with curious eyes and absorbs the ship. 

And every time, he is found by Spock, tugged to his feet by his patient first officer, returned to the Captain’s quarters and bid goodnight, before Spock and his bright shining concern beats a dignified retreat. 

* * *

 

 

There are a few places Kirk is never found. 

Sickbay. 

The engine room. 

The observation deck and rec hall. 

The gym. 

* * *

 

 

And there is one place he is found most often. 

* * *

 

 

The science labs are never empty. Spock has the best staff in the Fleet, every one of them always busy with duties for the ship and projects of their own, and often assisting each other. And there is Spock, with his duties as First Officer and Science Officer and none of that ever seems to slow down his own innate curiosity. 

The science lab is, Kirk has found, one of the busiest places on the ship. But it’s not the hectic rush of the engine rooms, which always feels one step away from disaster, or the loud clang of the kitchens--it’s a quiet, studious kind of busy, the kind that reminds Kirk of Spock, intense energy coiled and directed in utter control at the object of study. 

It’s busy, but ordered, neat and efficient and brilliant. And when he’s exhausted from dealing with Command, pissed at another order that makes little sense, when he’s trying to escape--

* * *

 

 

Kirk enters the lab quietly, and avoids the gaze of the officers. A couple cast quick looks his way before returning to the work they're doing, and he wanders through the lab slowly. A few experiments--one by Dr. Klaus, a visiting scientist that Spock seemed pleased to have aboard--catches his attention momentarily, before he drifts on, pulled inexorably to a quiet corner that no one is working in. 

Spock’s work station is, always, neat and ordered, as clean and untouched as if they had left spcaedock three hours ago and not three years. He smiles to himself, and trails his fingers over the smooth surface as he passes by, going to the corner he likes most. 

Spock finds him there, later, Kirk’s head bent over his padd as he reads reports and answers messages from Starfleet. Spock doesn’t acknowledge him, beyond letting his gaze flick over the captain quickly, assessing, before he turns and loses himself in his work. 

Kirk finishes reading the report from sickbay on his padd, smiling at the summary Spock added for his convenience, and makes a few notes that he sends back to his First Officer. Later, when Spock had them, they’d talk things over, make any necessary changes together. That’s what made them good--what made the  _ Enterprise _ the best. That Kirk could rely on Spock, and that Spock wasn’t constantly reaching for Jim’s authority. 

He sighs a little and lowers the padd, letting his head fall back. 

He doesn’t do this often. Usually when he finds a corner of the ship to haunt, it’s to steal a moment to clear his brain and he almost always falls asleep. But occasionally, when he’s  _ here _ , he’ll forget to sleep, and he’ll watch. 

He’s used to being the center of attention, on the bridge, and in the ship. Used to the attention of the crew on him like a living thing. 

But he’s never understood how anyone can look at him, when Spock is standing at his shoulder. Because, when Spock is in a room, Kirk can’t look away. 

Something he accepted years ago is that he’s in love with his first officer, and completely content to not do a thing about it. But on nights like this, when the lab is bright and quiet and Spock is absorbed in something in front of him--Kirk can look. He can watch the way Spock’s lips part just a little when he’s calculating on his padd, the way his eyes narrow in concentration. The glossy shiny of his black hair and the way his shoulders shift in his blue science shirt.

The tight pull of regulation pants when he crouches to retrieve a tricorder. 

He sighs and shifts and Spock finally looks at him. “Are you ready to leave, sir?” 

Kirk waves away his concern. Spock has only been working for an hour, barely enough time to get started. “Don’t mind me, Mr. Spock.” 

His gaze is shadowed and doubtful for a moment, before he turns his attention back to the readings in front of him. 

 

* * *

 

 

Spock shakes him awake, and Kirk blinks, disoriented. The science lab is unnaturally quiet, and the lights are dim, so different from what Kirk is used to that he almost thinks he fell asleep somewhere else this time. 

But no--there’s Spock’s work station, and there smell of Chekov’s explosion last week still hangs a little too heavy in the air.

“I fell asleep,” he says, dully. Spock nods and Kirk takes a moment to take him in. He’s sitting cross-legged in front of Jim, his hands on his knees. Exhaustion smudges faint green shadows under his eyes, but a smile plays in his dark gaze. 

“Finish processing the sensor data?” Kirk guesses and Spock nods. 

“I sent the report to you,” is all he says, and Kirk frowns because usually Spock loves telling him about his projects. 

Spock watches him with the familiar warmth that Kirk adores and says, “Are you finished here, Jim?” 

He yawns and nods, allows Spock pull him to his feet and tug him through the ship, to his quarters. There, Spock hesitates, watching him. 

He always seems to watch Kirk, always seems to anticipate what the captain will need before Kirk is aware of it. 

“Chess, tomorrow?” Kirk says, now, sleepy still and offers up a smile. 

Spock nods once. 

And then he leans in and brushes a kiss, gentle and chaste and electric, as wild as a storm and as gentle as the rain, across Jim’s lips, his body swaying just a little, that Vulcan control slipping a fraction, before he pulls away, there and gone so fast Jim barely has time to process it. Spock watches his for a long moment as Jim licks his lips and blinks at his first officer and doesn’t demand to know what the hell that was. 

Until finally, Spock offers him a tiny twitch of his lips, an almost smile, and says, his voice rough and lower than usual, “Good night, Jim.” 

And leaves him there, a goofy smile spreading on his face. 

 

* * *

 

 

Kirk is the beating heart of the  _ Enterprise,  _ and the crew adores him. And when he needs it, they give him the space, the comfortability to haunt the halls of his ship. They turn their attention elsewhere, and redirect the new members of the crew who aren’t quite sure what to make of their captain, curled in odd corners of the ship, dozing as he listens to it move around him. 

And when Spock inevitably comes to find him, to pull him, drowsy and content, from wherever he is hiding, the crew adores that too. Nods quiet at him before they retreat, leaving the captain and commander alone, together. 


End file.
